Omer poems 2017 (5777)
preceded by a pre-Pesach poem
Pre-Pesach poem
so many ways
to lie on the bed, to
rush to the door what
feels a second too late,
to let the myrrh
bleed out, to search
and be beaten
in the searching
so many ways
to send out the soul
so easy
to be whole
and not know it
4.9.2017
1 toward the Omer
chesed shebchesed
the
wait
for
the
wait
is
over
rain
when
dew
was
asked
for
me
when
you
holding,
held
four
girls
throw
lettuce
to
keep
bitter
a
lettuce’s
throw
away
4.10.2017
2 toward the Omer
gevurah shebchesed
Don’t worry
about me
sitting over
here in
the dark
with these
light shards
scattered all
around just
where you
left them
when you
decided I
needed you
gone in
order to
be but
had you
asked me
first about
your whole
tsimtsum plan
I would
have said
what ridiculous
over abundant
loving kindness
4.13.2017
3 toward the Omer
tiferet shebchesed
Three weeks ago
at the ecstatic
dance we kept
space in be
tween us that
was part of
what we could
give to each
other I have
never held you
so very close
hugging all those
armfuls of air
4.14.2017
4 toward the Omer
netzach shebchesed
whenever I forget a
person’s name and say
it’s not personal I
know it really is
but it’s more than
that or less as
Elisha told me after
Shabbat lunch in some
context “I have an
eidetic memory for what
my mind decides is
important but can’t choose”
Jen almost steps on
the light gray dead
mouse by the curb
and we startle and
I start to image
waterfalls and we look
at the eastern mountains
and Jen says “Dead
mouse over the mountains”
Having missed Hallel in
services I walk down
the street I repeat
what I remember Hodu
lAdonai ki tov ki
leolam chasdo ki leolam
chasdo ki leolam chasdo
4.16.2017
5 toward the Omer
hod shebchesed
Dry near the muddy edge
of the water above them
I do not want to
tell myself for my sake
or I am but ashes
I reach both hands down
toward the thin creased pieces
of parchment my fingers find
nothing it seems that someone
did not see fit to
give women pockets but I
cannot wait for man or
manna to judge my worth
I choose splendor and humble
find my tambourine move my
feet stumble dance creating dust
4.16.2017
6 toward the Omer
yesod shebchesed
A lovely day of the basics
4.19.2017
7 toward the Omer
malkhut shebchesed
Not knowing what to I do
4.19.2017
8 toward the Omer
chesed shebigvurah
My stomach constricts: the first bite of bagel
Let that love live under the surface, unrisen
Overflowing cups stain the skirts of white dresses
Rather walk through dunes than face the horizon
Narrow channels allow for cry out and respond
With vocal cords wide only soundless air comes
The cat pushes his body into the computer:
Zeke, carving a way through, if I’ll take it
4.19.2017
9 toward the Omer
gevurah shebchesed
In memory of my grandmother, Sylvia Greenfield Moses, z”l
Strength in discipline today means I must move on
—not from you—from this—I promise I still
love you, just as your love still loves me
4.20.2017
10 toward the Omer
Psychic insight becomes possible upon three things: knowledge, stamina, friendship
4.21.2017
11-16 toward the Omer
Data: Client came to session and stated “I have less than
one week left in Seattle.” Client reported that she and her partner
started packing on Friday. Client shared that the living tree outside her office
she had once thought was dead is now pressing small leaves against the window.
Assessment: Client is not in crisis at this time. Client’s strengths include experience with transitions.
Plan: Continue to plant rainbows and water trees. Support client in finding more balance. Schedule assessment/update.
4.27.2017
17 toward the Omer
tiferet shebitferet
WA-MT
Just half a day gone and so glad to see clouds, to find, after no mountain, mountain
4.28.2017
18-19 toward the Omer
Netzach shebitferet
MT
Hod shebitferet
MT-ND
Guest poet
Jen Wenz
Heart’s fissure
splurting, bubbling,
boiling, spewing,
red-orange,
blue, yellow,
green
molten mud,
sulphur steam.
thermophiles thrive
enduring in the heat
enduring in the acid
enduring.
Body’s branches
brittle, breaking,
burning, bowing,
scalded,
scarred,
black.
forest opens
air
seeds open
life.
Soul’s canyons
cracked, ancient,
shifting, washed
red rock
grey
river
carved.
horses,
here,
wild.
Driving east:
Mountain says, I got your back
says, i’m here, even when the rain rolls in
even when the fires roar,
even, even when i’m a yearning
bubbling,
begging to be born.
says,
you,
you came to find the me in you
5.4.2017
20 toward the Omer
ND-IL
yesod shebitferet
Two drives done, two to go (not that I know)--and in the middle, this table of five in Minnesota
5.6.2017
21 toward the Omer
IL-OH
malkhut shebitferet
At night he shows us
baby pictures I had
never seen before and
my first reaction is
what a weird-looking baby
my second,
aversion to my first
my third,
just look at my parents
looking at me
In the afternoon in the shower
I say I'm sorry
wash the length of my body
step out of the water
one beloved foot after another
5.6.2017
22 toward the Omer
OH-MD
chesed shebnetzach
The feeling of finally, of home, of done, of still there, of pass, of family, of four rushed MadLibs, of three dogs
5.7.2017
23 toward the Omer
MD-NY-
gevurah shebnetzach
do I bring pants or skirts and how many of each how long and do I want my siddur and now I'm flying
and then a family from Kuwait their flight is more than three hours from now so the boarding pass place is still closed
she touches my face and asks if I want to join them and I say I have work to do which is true
and I got a lot of it done and the conversation's left open, could have been, there better be good tea in heaven
5.7.2017
24 toward the Omer
-Tel Aviv
tiferet shebnetzach
My first success this time is not taking the transportation in the wrong direction, turns out where is the bus is not enough of the question
5.7.2017
25 toward the Omer
netzach shebnetzach
Dinner with family, sixteen hours' sleep, a walk by the beach, invited for coffee--good thing they decreed Shabbat a bit more than just twenty-four
5.7.2017
26 toward the Omer
hod shebnetzach
I left the orchard seven years ago and now am back, it's the same, though I did not remember the quiet, the wind, the windows
Hard to stay long with all the dying the mind-leavetaking the frenzy of hacking but really is the rest of the world less of a scar
(the secret is here but the whisper speaks for either a moment or eternity and neither is the scale at which I can listen and live
what they cite as evidence was method was principle come in peace go in peace never stop moving remain perpetually rested unrested unbested untested uncertain untouchable)
5.7.2017
27 toward the Omer
yesod shebnetzach
One hand of the man who when he asked if he could join me on the bench I said please plants next to my hip then retreats,
chastened. The other breaks off a leafing twig as he walks away around the corner. My other hand brushes a red ant off my leg. I try
to listen to myself but there is too much trying, or maybe listening is not what I need, or maybe I'm past that. The man who lives
by selling tells me I looked scared before sitting with him in his shop and I say I had not wanted to buy anything. He invites me
return, whenever, and I have forgotten how to say Inshallah so I say if I don't come back it's not that I didn't want to. I ask
if he shakes hands. I take a picture of his intersection to remember then walk on, hello, with peace, need to get to the wall, remember him
nine years ago saying another probably pursued me cause I was pretty but not so pretty that I'd be used to the attention so I'd be flattered,
an easier target shall we say and I say wow okay now I know the what to heal in myself today at the wall the wall says
am I not the luckiest I get to be with everyone by being between them though sometimes it seems they're trying to see right through me the
pigeons say remember the time we brought you a leafing twig and you realized there was more life than you and you grew drink were you laughing
or crying the wall says all this crumpled paper makes it hard for anything to come out of me anymore what if I want to crumble pray
dew softens it I say do I touch you or push you how can my hands be light enough how can hands be more for giving
5.9.2017
28 toward the Omer
malkhut shebnetzach
She walks down the basement studio stairs
to wash the last of yesterday's paintbrushes,
finds her self again across from canvas
daubing squares and shine upon old layers,
she and easel pausing time once more
among the artworks stacked against the walls
instead of shown--though she's less critical
of her decisions than she'd been before
the wording wasn't will, instead was might,
before the question was about a life
ongoing, not about if life's lived right,
before a melded answer came to light--
Returning after she could have been done
the creator smiles, her fountain flowing on
Returning after she could have been done
the creator smiles, her fountain flowing on
5.9.2017
29 toward the Omer
chesed shebhod
A day of not being more than I am and not being any less for it. The heat stays. The street noises. Yavni makes us a whole seven eggs.
5.10.2017
30 toward the Omer
Outside Bethlehem
gevurah shebhod
Lowering my foot: I love the land. Raising my foot: I let go of it. Lowering my foot: I love the land. Raising my foot: I let go of it.
5.15.2017
31 toward the Omer
Beit Sahour
tiferet shebhod
She lays out olives from her trees and I eat. Bitter, I do not say. Did you expect the fruit of peace to taste the same everywhere, she does not say.
5.15.2017
32 toward the Omer
Jerusalem
netzach shebhod
I walk home. My shadow appears before me, magnificent. It says: I am your projection. It says: Remember who you are a projection of. I enter the dark apartment together and rest.
5.15.2017
33 toward the Omer
hod shebhod
To want to be a gadol--and to confess it over tea near what may not be a carob tree, to find relief in company, to let God's presence come to rest again
5.15.2017
34 toward the Omer
yesod shebhod
Someone is playing guitar so I ask to join. I am given a hot dog. Everything is kosher, they say. What do you think of the conflict? one asks. Trees overlook the scattered bonfires.
5.15.2017
35 toward the Omer
malkhut shebhod
1.
I stand alone at night, remember another, remember older knowledge, remember sharing. Please, could you trust past me more than me? My teachers' teacher tells me my teachers interpret him better than he can himself.
2.
I stumble over a crack in the pavement I've been rolling out over the older road, having forgotten that some things last forever in this dry heat, just waiting to rise, to break up again
3.
I only get there on time because I realize I am too late to get there on my own. I eat ice cream for breakfast to great admiration. It's all I had, I say, pleased.
5.16.2017
36 toward the Omer
As I say chesed shebyesod I exhale into a rest I hadn't known I'd been waiting for. Did you know your soul wants to be with you as much as you want to be with it?
5.17.2017
37 toward the Omer
Tzfat
gevurah shebyesod
Unsure, I listen, and the world says it's okay, child. I settle in. A young cat arrives, jumps onto the trash in the public trash bin, paws around a little, and leaves to the wall behind me.
5.18.2017
38 toward the Omer
tiferet shebyesod
She balances upside-down in her soldier's garb, based by her friend, who lies on the small carpet on the linoleum, legs vertical, feet flexed. With small pawing steps to her hip joints, he guides her to rotate around.
5.18.2017
39 toward the Omer
Qabatiya
netzach shebyesod
The only full day together and yet it is here and it will always be here and it is raining, she sticks her arm out of the window and drinks the water off and says try it, it's delicious
5.21.2017
40 toward the Omer
Jenin-Ramallah-Jerusalem-Tel Aviv
hod shebyesod
1.
Her mother says she would like to hear Havdalah and I make it. Why does it say who separates between Israel and the peoples? I talk about Yaakov, about commandments. None of us are satisfied.
Upstairs, I think: God separates but the word between comes to show us three: Between of holy and secular: chol hamoed; Light, dark: dawn; Shabbat, the six days of doing: bein hashmashot; Israel, the peoples: and I am not satisfied.
In the car as we wait for my friend and their brother to return the three of us return to the basics. Hajara, waraqa, maqas! Our hands bump, cover, snip. We laugh, satisfied, and play again, and again, and again.
2.
I keep my open passport and visa flattened against the plastic as the young women in uniform peer and process. One eventually gives me a smile and two thumbs up. After the bus, I cross the line with my possessions.
3.
Five years of turning the kaleidoscope. The jewel-toned pieces jumble into their final display over a Tel Aviv patio. They love each other, and it's beautiful. He rolls tobacco. I luxuriate in the hammock, and then it's time to leave.
5.21.2017
41 toward the Omer
Tel Aviv
yesod shebyesod
The eyes of the man holding the Torah in Chagall's "Solitude" look nowhere. The Torah tilts away. Observing analysts might say their relationship is headed south. God says You don't have to figure out how to be closer to me I'm here.
I stop in my southward walk along the shore. Sand and water cover, recede, cover. The longer I stay, the more I sink in. I walk again. The two men who'd approached me follow, and I find refuge with three strangers.
5.23.2017
42 toward the Omer
malkhut shebyesod
Tel Aviv-New York-Baltimore
Due to travel there are approximately thirty-one hours of today today. They conclude that my friend’s mother’s gift of olive oil from their trees is safe enough to stay with me. The airplane meal packaging says at least one blessing to say.
5.23.2017
43 toward the Omer
chesed shebmalkhut
They drive over an hour twice to be with me in my jet-lagged state or maybe to hang out with my family’s dogs and maybe jokes are helpful for friendships like this. We store up each other’s hugs for another length of time.
5.29.2017
44 toward the Omer
gevurah shebmalkhut
I almost stop because the pen ran out of ink but find a pen with ink in my bag and put the pen without ink back in the bag although I won’t use it again and notice what I’ve done and keep on writing.
5.29.2017
45-49 toward the Omer
tiferet/netzach/hod/yesod/malkhut shebmalkhut
It would be tempting to say that I was too present with the world to write poems in their times for the last five days of presence week but that would not necessarily satisfy me, in any case it is these words in a rush,
a contemplative rush, a still somewhat filtered rush, a rush with pauses, a rush with backspaces, a rush with eddies one could say, and somehow no matter what happens the current carries forward, at the end the preparation has happened and we are standing here again,
standing right here again, what shape will I receive this time, what flowers will grow out of me, what thunder shall reverberate through my chest and not shatter me, what poem can I write in twenty minutes that I am not ashamed of without having to rely
on saying that it was written in twenty minutes, what are the words that glow with where they came from, what will ignite the glow that they could come from, ignite is not the right word, what bed will allow the glow to rest and smile, to sleep
and dream out a new beginning, a new old beginning, a love, a love rooted in my circulation, what is the preparation, there is no preparation, the words run out just in time for the words to come again, the words run out, they run out just in time
5.30.2017
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